Page 86 of Heir of Illusion

The slight curve of his lips as he approaches tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing. It also makes me want to pull out my dagger and drive it straight into his gut. It wouldn’t be enough to kill a God, but I could make it hurt. Whatever amusement simmered behindKillian’seyes fades quickly as his attention dips to Baylor’s hand. Taking full advantage of my revealing gown, he’s slipped his fingers beneath the seam of my low back-line, squeezing the bare flesh of my hip.

“I am pleased to welcome you to my kingdom,Killian,” Baylor hisses.

“I assure you, King Baylor, the pleasure is all mine.” Thorne’s tone is deadly soft, raising the hairs on my arms. He lifts a gloved hand, gesturing to the two people behind him. “May I present my advisers, Griffen and Fia.”

The king spares them a cursory glance, but my focus stays on the woman.Fia. The one who was so comfortable whispering in his ear earlier? Is she his lover? My fury intensifies as her dark eyes settle on me.

“What a delight to meet you,” Baylor says dispassionately. “I trust you already know my pet, Lady Iverson.”

I drag my gaze away from Fia to find Thorne still watching me. He’s not even bothering to hide his anger.

“Of course.” He flashes his teeth in a predatory smile. “But she won’t be yours forever.”

Baylor goes rigid. Something sharp skates over my hip, threatening to break the skin.Claws. The side of him I fear most is rising to the surface. The king has never been great at controlling hisverterenature. Instead, it seems to control him. I hold myself unnaturally still, not wanting to attract the attention of the Beast of the Battle.

The crowd, however, has no such survival instincts. Not a single one of them understands how precarious this situation is. Several guests audibly gasp at Thorne—atKillian’s—open disrespect. Many even lift their heads from the floor to watch this dangerous scene play out.

Thorne carries on as if he’s completely oblivious to the room’s reaction as he deigns to glance at Baylor for the first time since he arrived.

“Soon, what you believe is yours will bemine,” he promises.

Barely a second passes before the tips of Baylor’s claws pierce the skin beneath my dress. Despite the pain, I don’t react outwardly. I know better than that.

“After all,” Thorne continues, “every soul belongs to Death, eventually.”

The room is silent as we all wait for Baylor’s response. He takes his time, his simmering stare focused solely on the God before him. “As you say, Your Excellency. I hope you and your companions enjoy?—”

“I would love to dance with your charmingwraith,” Thorne cuts him off.

“No,” I say quickly as Baylor’s claws threaten to dig deeper into my side. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

If Thorne keeps this up, he’s going to push the king too far. Baylor is going to quickly forget all the reasons he cannot fight a God.

“Come now, Lady Iverson,” Thorne croons. “We areallies, are we not?” I narrow my eyes at the way his velvet-soft tone makes the word sound much more intimate than it is. “Why not prove to everyone here how close our two realms are? Consider it a stipulation of our alliance.”

Baylor’s face twists into some semblance of a smile, but it appears painful and forced. In this moment, I’m sure he regrets ever making a deal with Death.

“My pet would be honored to dance with you,” he says between clenched teeth. “But don’t forget, while her soul may be yours eventually,sheis mine.”

A dangerous glint enters Thorne’s eyes, but he doesn’t respond. I bite the inside of my cheek as Baylor pulls his claws from my skin. Hopefully whatever pinched expression may have momentarily crossed my face will be written off as unease over being so close to Death. A scream of frustration rises in my throat, but I swallow it down as I force myself to take Thorne’s gloved hand.

He gazes over the crowd, finally acknowledging their existence. “Rise.”

All at once, the swirling fire above us disappears and the shadows recede. The room returns to its former glory, though it takes a few moments for the revelry to recommence. The low tones of a cello swell through the room as the band returns to their instruments. My lips curve down as I recognize the haunting melody.

The Ballad of Death.

I cut a glare at Thorne as he leads me onto the dancefloor. “Interesting song choice.”

His lips twitch. “A coincidence, I’m sure.”

Every eye in the room is trained on us as we stop in the center of the dancers. I ignore them, focusing all my attention on the God whose arm slips around my waist. His gloved thumb brushes over my bare skin, sending a shiver skating through me. His nearness is dizzying as he sweeps us into a sensual dance.

“You almost look as if you’re unhappy to see me,” he whispers, only loud enough for me to hear.

“Because I am.” I force my lips into a pleasant smile, keeping up appearances for our audience. I catch sight of my brother standing near one of the alcoves, glaring at my dance partner. Bel raises a brow as his attention shifts to me, but I subtly shake my head, hoping that’s enough to dissuade him from doing anything foolish. “Do you have such limited entertainment in the Fifth Isle that you must come here and play pretend,Killian?”

Lines appear around his mouth, the only sign of his discomfort. “Don’t call me that.”

---